


Catastrophe

by Roshwen



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, In which Ezekiel Jones is adopted by a cat, Jenkins secretly loves to help, don't tell anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 22:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12714168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: She thought everything in the apartment belonged to her, and her alone. She shed fur all over the place. She was the pickiest eater Ezekiel had ever met. She still lashed out occasionally. She started screaming at him if he was just five minutes late with her dinner and when he gave it to her, started screaming because it was thewrongdinner. He still couldn’t pet her and she still wouldn’t come within two feet of him.Jenkins called her a hell beast. Ezekiel thought she was the best cat ever.





	Catastrophe

‘Um… Jenkins?’

Jenkins looked up from the new batch of healing oil he was brewing (a good thing he worked out the recipe centuries ago, as Librarians went through the stuff like it was apple juice) to see Ezekiel hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

‘Yes, Mr. Jones? Can I help you?’ he asked, a bit surprised since the last time he had seen the three disturbers of the peace, as he not-so-privately called them, they had all been heading out to celebrate the success of their latest case. He had actually been looking forward to _finally_ having an afternoon in the Annex by himself again. Just him, a cosy fire, and Mary Shelley’s lesser known but no less ingenious work to keep him company. It would have been terrific.

Now it looked like he was going to have to change his plans. Damn the boy.

Ezekiel didn’t reply. Instead he swallowed and looked at his shoes and when Ezekiel looked this nervous, there was always cause for grave concern. So Jenkins abandoned the dream of an undisturbed afternoon in the Annex with a wistful sigh, left the array of vials and bottles on his work bench for what they were and turned his full attention to what would undoubtedly be a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions. ‘Mr. Jones, if you engaged in another one of your _thief offs_ with the leprechauns, I am not going to intercede again. You will just have to pay them what you owe, fair and square.’

‘No, no, it’s not that. Promise,’ Ezekiel said, sudden innocence radiating out of every pore. ‘No, I’m leaving them alone now. Got no use for gold that only stays gold for a day, anyway. No, it’s just that. Um. I got a sort of hypothetical question.’

Jenkins raised an eyebrow and waited, but when no actual question seemed to be forthcoming, said: ‘Well?’

After another beat of silence, Ezekiel looked at him with a grin that would have been bashful if it had been on any other face. ‘Do you… I mean, I know you know tons of stuff about magical creatures like dragons and unicorns and all that, but do you also know what to do with animals that aren’t magic?’

‘Well, the basics are the same, of course,’ Jenkins said slowly. ‘But just out of interest: what kind of animal are we talking about here?’

‘Cats?’ Ezekiel asked in a hopeful voice, the initial hesitation falling away now that he was finally getting to the point. ‘You know anything about cats?’

 Oh dear. With a heavy sigh Jenkins could already see where this was going.

‘Mr. Jones, I do have some experience with cats, yes. Excellent creatures but _not_ ideal to keep in a magical Library. Assuming that is the next part of your entirely hypothetical question, of course.’

‘Only sort of,’ Ezekiel said. ‘I mean, I wasn’t going to bring her in here but…’ He fell silent as he saw the look on Jenkins’ face. ‘Yeah, okay. Not entirely hypothetical, no.’

‘I suspected as much,’ Jenkins said. ‘Well, then you better come in and tell me the whole story. Where is this not entirely hypothetical cat now and how did you come by it?’

~~~  
  
The cat was under Ezekiel’s dresser. It shrunk down into a ball of black fur with huge yellow eyes when it saw them as they crouched down and peered into the shadows to get a look. It even went so far as to swipe at Jenkins with a razor sharp claw when Jenkins’ hand encroached on the tiny kingdom under the dresser, then started hissing at them like a steam vent with anger issues until they beat a tactful retreat.

‘Right,’ Jenkins muttered. ‘Why did you want to take this creature in again?’

‘I told you,’ Ezekiel said. ‘I tried to keep her away, but she kept coming back. And last night it was raining and she was completely soaked, so I let her into the building, you know, to dry off a little. I figured she’d go back outside again when the rain was gone, but somehow she sneaked in here and now she won’t leave.’

It took a heroic effort, but Jenkins _didn’t_ compare the cat to certain young Librarians invading his Library. Instead he hummed and said: ‘Do you _want_ it to leave?’

The answer was an unexpected silence. ‘I don’t know,’ Ezekiel said softly after a long moment. ‘I mean, I never really had a pet before. Except for Stumpy of course, but that was… different.’

Every cutting remark Jenkins might have wanted to make about idiot boys getting too attached to gargoyles died when he saw how very _young_ Ezekiel suddenly looked as he stood there, staring back at the dresser which had finally stopped hissing. ‘If I want her to stay,’ Ezekiel asked, more unsure than Jenkins had ever heard him, ‘what do I do?’

‘Three things,’ Jenkins said as he put a hand on Ezekiel’s shoulder and gently guided him back to the Annex. ‘First, research. The only cats I’ve known were either mousers or lady’s pets, and this one does not fall into either category. My experience with demon cats from hell is unfortunately quite limited.’

‘Second,’ Jenkins said as Ezekiel installed himself behind his computer to start a marathon research session into cats with trust issues, ‘is be patient. Cats don’t like to be rushed and whatever their owners want, most of the time the cat wants something completely different. Be patient, accept what it chooses to do and don’t ask for more than it’s willing to give.’

‘And third,’ Jenkins said with a smile Ezekiel didn’t see because it was aimed at his back, ‘you should probably think of a name for the beast.’

~~~  
  
‘Jones, what’s this?’ Jake asked the next morning, grabbing a piece of paper from Ezekiel’s desk and frowning at it. ‘You tryin’ to make a list of the world’s weirdest baby names? Something you oughta tell us?’

‘Shut up,’ Ezekiel said, snatching the paper out of Jake’s hand. ‘Cass, please tell Stone I didn’t knock you up so he’ll be quiet.’

‘He didn’t knock me up,’ Cassandra said obligingly as she walked over. ‘But why are you making a list with names like _Ada_ and _Harley Quinn_?’ She tugged at the paper until Ezekiel relinquished it with a defeated huff and started to read out loud. ‘ _Bonnie slash Clyde. Carmen Sandiego. Devereaux. Luna (Lovegood). Elphaba._ Ezekiel, what is this?’

But Ezekiel was staring into space with an almost physical lightbulb floating over his head. ‘Of course,’ he whispered to nobody in particular. Then he snatched the paper back, crumpled it up and tossed it away before he bounced out of the room in the direction of Jenkins’ lab.

~~~  
  
‘Irene Adler,’ he declared as Jenkins looked up at him in annoyance. ‘The only woman to ever out-thief Sherlock Holmes.’

Jenkins merely groaned. ‘Mr. Jones, are you even certain the thing is female?’

‘Never had a guy hiss at me like that before,’ Ezekiel said with a cheerful grin. ‘Also, I put some kibble and water next to the dresser last night, and when I left this morning it was gone. That’s good, right?’

‘It’s something,’ Jenkins admitted. ‘But please remember to be patient, Mr. Jones. The fact that she’s eating and drinking is good, but it’s also instinct. It will take time before she does anything else.’

‘I know,’ Ezekiel said, not in the least defeated. ‘You think you can rush cracking a safe, or that stealing the Roslind diamond was done after just five minutes of planning? I can be patient.’

~~~  
  
For a while, that was the last thing Jenkins heard about Irene Catler (yeah. The original name lasted almost a whole minute before Ezekiel discovered the pun). The only reason he knew it was still there, and still refused to come out from under Ezekiel’s dresser, was the fact that Ezekiel was taking home Jenkins’ newspaper at the end of every day so the cat could have something other to pee on than Ezekiel’s carpet. But apart from eating, drinking and occasionally lashing out when Ezekiel changed the newspaper, it didn’t seem eager to do anything else.

Until one morning, when all Librarians minus Flynn and plus their Guardian were discussing their latest case and trying to determine whether this was going to turn into the second apocalypse of the week or if it merely meant that a small town was going to be wiped off the map, Ezekiel’s phone started to buzz.

‘Jones, if you could stop texting and pay attention for a moment, we could really use your input on this,’ Eve snapped, but Ezekiel didn’t seem to hear. He just stared at his phone with a smile that made the others throw him curious looks.

‘Jones,’ Jake said softly, pulling Ezekiel back to the crisis at hand, ‘you wanna show us what you got there?’

‘Nah, Ezekiel said, grinning widely as he put his phone away. ‘No time. Gotta save the world first.’

~~~  
  
Late that night, after they saved the world once again, Ezekiel sidled up to Jenkins and showed him the picture of a black blob on a leather couch. ‘Motion sensors went off in the apartment this morning,’ Ezekiel said like a proud parent whose kid just took its first steps. ‘Seems like she finally decided to go for an adventure.’

The picture was grainy but Ezekiel could not stop staring at it. So Jenkins hummed once again, hid his smile behind Ezekiel’s back and told him that this was very good progress indeed.

~~~  
  
After Irene decided the rest of the apartment was her territory now, it didn’t take her long to start tolerating Ezekiel in her personal space as well. At first, she retreated to the top of the bookshelf when Ezekiel sat down on the couch, only to claim his corner of the couch as soon as he went to the kitchen to fix them both some dinner. Then she decided that the gaming chair was hers and hers alone and Ezekiel had to fight a very bitter battle to get it back.

Irene spent another two days under the dresser after that. When she came back out, bribed with the finest organic chicken Whole Foods had to offer, Ezekiel got her the most luxurious cat tree he could find online so she’d have a decent place to call her own.

Irene preferred the box it came in.

She thought everything in the apartment belonged to her, and her alone. She shed fur all over the place. She was the pickiest eater Ezekiel had ever met. She still lashed out occasionally. She started screaming at him if he was just five minutes late with her dinner and when he gave it to her, started screaming because it was the _wrong_ dinner. He still couldn’t pet her and she still wouldn’t come within two feet of him.

Jenkins called her a hell beast. Ezekiel thought she was the best cat ever.

~~~  
  
Especially on nights like this, when the rain clatters against the windows and the lights in his apartment are low and he is watching Germany kicking Britain’s ass at soccer (and cheering for the Germans), while Irene is curled up at the other end of the couch, pretending to be fast asleep but twitching her ears every time he commented on the match. She is lying closer to him than ever before, but Ezekiel doesn’t feel the urge to reach out and try to convince her to come even closer.

He can live with a cat that needed its personal space.

Ten minutes later, however, he is sitting hunched down on the floor trying to _breathe,_ you idiot, it’s a _soccer team_ not an army of _rage people coming towards you._ Trembling hands grab the remote and turn the match off as he starts counting his breaths out loud, grounding himself with his own voice and the feeling of the remote digging into his hand. It’s okay, this has happened before and it will definitely happen again (and both more often than he’d like), and this is a pretty mild one. He still knows where he is, for a start, and that’s always good. He can work from there.

Breathe in, breathe out. See? He’s already coming back down.

Then he hears a soft thump somewhere next to him, followed by a bump to his hip. When he doesn’t react because he’s too focused on breathing to do anything else, there is another, more insistent bump.

When he still doesn’t move, Irene jumps back on to the couch, only to clamber over Ezekiel’s shoulder into the space between his torso and his legs, where she promptly starts purring like a rusty chainsaw.

Ezekiel can only stare at her in amazement, panic and looming flashbacks of dying friends completely forgotten. He stays motionless, too scared that if he’ll move, she’ll bolt again. They sit like that for all of five minutes before Irene gives Ezekiel a look that says, clear as day, that they’ll _never_ speak of this again, and slowly and with great dignity extracts herself from Ezekiel’s lap.

‘Thank you,’ Ezekiel whispers, smiling when he is once again firmly ignored.

~~~  
  
In turn, he pretends not to notice the sudden heavy weight that’s lying on top of his blankets the next morning. Instead, he turns carefully on to his other side and hides his grin in the pillow.

The two of them are going to be just fine.


End file.
